Seams
by DollyPop12
Summary: Because, at the end of the day, it's where they meet, middle or otherwise, that's most important. A collection of SteinMarie one-shots.
1. What Goes Bump in the Night

_Things you Said at 1 am_

* * *

Victor was crying. Again. For what felt like the fiftieth time in the past two hours. Marie rolled to her side, almost sobbing: she decided it was a good thing that she usually wore black, since she assumed she'd be holding a funeral for her sleeping-schedule. Stein, for his part, could sleep through an actual apocalypse.

He almost did, too. She had nearly resorted to slapping him awake when they had to get ready for the battle on the moon, seemingly so long ago.

Back when she could actually sleep through the night.

She grumbled, struggling to get up. The bed called to her: the warm spot against Stein's back, where she was cuddling, the soft, stitched blankets.

It was cruel of fate to rip her away. It was cruel of everyone.

It was cruel of Victor. Her son got his manners from his father, who did nothing but flop over when the cool breeze of the night caught his back. He fidgeted uncomfortably, eyebrows furrowing in sleep, likely missing her body heat.

It served him right. She cursed Stein and his far more convenient sleeping habits.

Sighing, Marie finally made her way upright, taking a moment to scoop his lab-coat from where he kept it draped on the back of the chair. She didn't feel like putting on her dress, and the air was freezing on her naked form when she left the safety of her bed. Though Stein always kept his jacket open, she was practically swimming in it, so she wrapped it around herself.

Why she was worried about propriety when she was going to see her baby, she didn't know. It was too late at night, too early in the everloving morning, for her to be concerned with making any sense.

She blamed that for the desk situation, too. How was she supposed to see it? She couldn't have seen it.

Okay, so she could have, but she was so tired. When she knocked against the side of it, sending multiple things crashing to the ground, she wondered where in her life she must have gone wrong to consider sobbing over the fact that she was awake at 1 am in the morning, trying to make her way to her wailing son and not even being able to successfully leave through the door.

She sent a prayer up to whichever deity was listening: she would do anything, she didn't even care, if she could just get some damn sleep.

When she heard Stein make a sleepy noise, she whipped around, watching as he rose from the pillows like a vampire after groping around for her form on the bed, finding her missing.

"Marie?" he asked, squinting to take in her shape. He only blinked twice, the squinting hurting his eyes, before he reached to their bedside table in order to grasp hold of his glasses, analyzing the scene in front of him with his corrected vision.

He shook his head, yawning as he clicked his bolt back and made his way out of bed. Marie looked up at him as he walked to her, lifting a brow. Her exhausted expression was particularly emphasized in the lack of light.

Slowly, as though she would run away if he touched her, he unwrapped his lab-coat from around her, slipping it off her shoulders in order to put it on himself, herding her back to the comforts of their mattress.

"I'll take care of it," he said. "Get some sleep."

And as he left the room, the ends of the lab-coat swirling while he avoided the mess on the floor, she sent a thanks up to whoever was listening.

* * *

 **So, I ended up getting a ton of SteinMarie prompts and requests on Tumblr, and decided to post the shorter ones up in this drabble dump! I don't know how many there'll end up being, but the shorter fics that I have will all end up here!**


	2. Whisper

_Things You Said Too Quietly_

* * *

It wasn't so much that it was difficult to learn, rather that she wanted it to be perfect. The videos didn't help, not really, what with conflicting comments claiming that the accent was off or the word choice was poor.

What in Death's name had compelled her to try to write her vows in German?

She grumbled as she turned the pages of her book, glancing at the phonetic pronunciation and scrunching her mouth to the side when the vowels fit clumsily on her tongue.

Language wasn't her strong suit. It took her four years to learn enough English to pass in Nevada after leaving Sweden, and the accent still returned after her phone calls with her mother. It wasn't that she hadn't been trying, spending days on Stein's computer and deleting her browsing history whenever he'd get curious.

His hypothesis of her looking up porn was just rude. Not to mention untrue.

She didn't delete that particular history. Why would she try to hide her hints?

But, no, she didn't want to let him know that she was doing something so sentimental for him. From the countless novels he kept in his room in his native tongue, the fact that he barely got to speak it, she thought he'd appreciate her efforts for their wedding.

However, effort or no, she was ready to call his mother on the phone and ask for assistance. The woman would undoubtedly spill to Stein, absolutely ecstatic that her daughter-in-law (future, they'd always reminded her, though she never listened) was going to such great pains.

It had been two weeks, and the only thing she felt comfortable saying was "Ich liebe dich" though even that felt stilted against her teeth.

Slowly, she whispered it to herself, trying to fit the sounds properly together, threading it all through.

"Hm?" she heard, coming into her left ear, and she jumped, slamming her book shut and whipping her arm out to wallop whoever had the poor sense to spook her.

Stein, of course. Always Stein.

"Don't do that!" she said, and the ring on her finger caught the light when Stein's hold on her tightened fist loosened, having caught her punch before it landed against his nose. It turned into more of a caress than anything else.

He didn't even shrug, simply smirking at her as she turned to him, rolling her eye.

"What were you saying?" he asked her, lifting a brow behind his glasses.

"I said don't do that-"

"No. Prior."

She blinked, looking to the side before she flopped the book over.

"Nothing."

He chuckled at her, focusing on the bright title of the text she'd accidently flipped to the wrong side.

"You're pronouncing it wrong," he said, his smirk softening. The embarrassment on her face felt warm.

"What?" she replied, feigning ignorance.

"Ich liebe dich," he corrected.

And though it was barely a whisper, at least she knew.


	3. Receiver

_Things You Said Over The Phone_

* * *

He doesn't mean to pick up the receiver when she is on the phone with her mother, her soft sniffles breaking up the fluid Swedish that he had barely ever heard. With a start, he realizes that, though he'd known he'd be partnered with Marie for over a month before it actually went through, he had never bothered to learn much Swedish. He knows hardly any, a fact that is astonishing to him, but he'd never had to think about it in the past. Other languages he had learned, but never Swedish.

 _"Jag saknar dig."_

He puts the phone down after that, silent as a tombstone, making sure there was barely a click. It doesn't take long to find the translation: he has more books than he knows what to do with, and he can't be surprised by what it is.

Of course she misses her mother. Of course she misses home. The DWMA could be so painfully lonely.

He remembers leaving Germany, at 8. His own mother babbling about how proud she was that he had been chosen by a God, though it was not their own. The Star of David hanging from a golden chain was still dangling from his doorknob in his room.

His brows had come together, but he couldn't place when it happened.

She was barely 14, barely in a partnership with him.

He didn't know why he cared so much, but he flipped the page, anyway.

* * *

She doesn't expect it, and he knew she wouldn't have. Not when they were studying for an exam and she thought she was being annoying by asking so many questions, sprawled out on the floor as he read through his textbook, almost silently.

He already knew all the answers, even if he never went to class. But he didn't mind being around her, spending that time.

Something about her was calming.

So, when she stood up, quietly apologizing in heavily accented English, saying she was going back to her room, he decided that he didn't have much to lose.

"Du kan stanna här om du vill," he said, and he'd practiced it enough times, tracing the phonetics with a determination he couldn't help but be baffled by, to have the accent down well enough.

When she turned to him, her eyebrows were high on her forehead, the surprise evident in her amber eyes.

 _'You can stay here if you want.'_

She forgets how to say "Thank you" for a moment.

But her smile is enough.


	4. Silence

_Things You Didn't Say At All_

* * *

Her mother always loved to tell the story of how Marie, barely six years old, had ripped her bedsheets and wrapped them up around herself. She'd gone on, as her mother called it, an absolute tirade, stomping her foot and demanding to know where her groom was.

She supposed it stood as proof that, for almost all her life, since before she could even remember, she had wanted the fairy tale ending. She'd dreamed of the roses, the candle-lit dinners, the chocolate on Valentine's Day. She'd wanted dramatic proposals and confessions of undying romance. She'd wanted proclamations and dramatic, loud "I love you"s.

She didn't get them.

She wonders when she changed, when she stopped wanting all those things. As she looks in the mirror, it isn't too hard to envision herself younger, draped in off-white fabric, posing in an old polaroid, a pillow-case on her shoulders that she insisted was the veil. But that wasn't what stared back at her: instead, she is bloated.

She almost groans at the fact. Bloated and tired, wrapped in Stein's oversized lab-coat, her hair getting too long and her walk turned into a waddle.

What she had wanted since a little girl or no, pregnancy was tough. It wasn't magic and flowers like she always thought it was, but she realizes that she's equally as accepting of the reality. She sets a hand to her puffy belly, her ring catching the light.

She wonders when her idea of romance changed. Perhaps it was when she'd started to live in a laboratory in desperate need of furnishing, or when she went through the fridge the first time, pulling out more jars of questionable organs in various liquids from the shelves than actual edible food.

No, Stein wasn't conventional in the slightest, she'd get no Romantic Comedy plotline from him. Yet, when she heard their door click open, his voice calling out, "Marie? I'm home," and the rustle of the bag of sweets he'd gone on a run for, to ease her cravings, she smiles.

She doesn't find herself in desperate need of what she'd once envisioned was the only means of happily ever after,

There was nothing dramatic about it all. The things she had wanted as a little girl, she knew she would never get from him.

She didn't mind that, either.

Because he steps into the room she is in, rolling his eyes at the fact that she was standing on her swollen ankles and he all but scoops her up so she can rest her feet.

She figures there's more than one way to be told "I love you".

* * *

 **Thank you guys so much for the reviews and favorites! You're all wonderful. 3 Also, it's my personal headcanon that Stein never tells Marie "I Love You" but, rather, that he skirts around it ("You fight good", anyone?) and that Marie doesn't need the confession, anyway.**


	5. Constellations

_Things You Said Under The Stars and in the Grass_

* * *

If she thought hard enough about it, it was really like camping. Except, without the tent. Or the sleeping bag. Or the marshmallows.

So, really, not much like camping at all. But she was enjoying the break she had gotten, her swollen ankle elevated on both of their packs stacked atop one another. Stein had only recently finished bandaging her, and when she looked at him from her peripheral, he more resembled a cat that had been rubbed the wrong way than her Meister who managed to collected 57 souls in four months.

Starting from scratch after Kami and Spirit teamed up was more difficult than she could have imagined.

Neither of them were actually used to stopping for the night, least of all outside: hence, the lack of camping materials. It was because Stein had a vendetta against Kami that was deeper than the Mariana Trench that there was never any time to rest when it was a race to the "Make a Death Scythe First" line.

Thus: traveling all night after a mission, eating rations on the go, patching wounds whilst walking. She had gotten used to those things.

She wasn't used to laying on the ground next to him, chattering away as though they had all the time in the world, indulging in the beautiful sky.

She was goal oriented, but that didn't mean when given the chance to indulge, she wasn't going to milk it for all it was worth.

Regardless, she found herself thankful that they had plush grass, a far cry from the usual sand she was accustomed to, and it was warm enough that she didn't have to double up on clothes. It felt more comfortable than she could have ever predicted.

"What about that one?" she asked, pointing up to another cluster of stars, one of her hands behind her head as though a cushion. Stein peered at the general direction of where she was gesturing, tempted to tell her that it wasn't too accurate a method of indicating what she wanted information on, but he refrained.

"Ursa Major," he told her, blinking lazily from behind his glasses.

He was so tired of staring at the sky. He could do so any day, or rather, night, that he wanted to. It wasn't as though the stars were going to disappear. Besides which, he'd already spent long enough researching it in his constant quest for answers.

But there they were, and there they were going to stay until Marie got some rest and he could gather enough energy to carry her back home.

But he was so sick of stars.

Instead, he turned to her, taking in her enthralled, awed expression.

"Ursa Major?" she repeated, keeping her sights on the heavens.

"Mmm," he hummed, indicating that she was correct in her pronunciation. From what he could see of the side of her face, it looked as though she was smiling, and even in the darkness, with nothing but the laughing moon above them as light, she seemed to glow, lighting up the entire world.

"Beautiful," she whispers, blinking at the glinting stars above her.

When he made a noise of absentminded agreement, he still hadn't turned away.


	6. Teacher, Teacher

_Things You Said While We Were Driving_

* * *

He didn't know why he stopped. He'd seen scenarios like the one before him multiple times as he was making his way to his car, getting ready to go home after a long day of dealing with ridiculous students who never turned in their assignments on time and cracked one too many impromptu, unoriginal anatomy jokes. The joke, however, was usually on them, considering Stein had approximately .02% allotment for patience and it was already long gone by the time he got to class after dealing with traffic.

He was halfway to his car, mourning his decision to teach (who decided he was fit to do that, anyway?) when he spotted her peering into the rain.

Marie Mjolnir. Not quite brand new, but she certainly hadn't been in the school for any longer than two years, teaching her advanced placement calculus classes. Though, even one month into her becoming a teacher, she somehow managed to get everyone to adore her.

He suspected that, were she ever fired, the entire staff would downright riot.

Had she been anyone else, he'd be fine with simply strolling by with all the leisure of a man who watched the news each morning and all but memorized the weather forecast. The run to his car was particularly quick due to how close he'd parked, but with how heavy the rain was, he would still get soaked were he not in possession of an umbrella.

It seemed Miss Marie, as she preferred her students to call her, hadn't expected rain. He took a single look at how she stood under the flimsy awning of the school, likely getting ready to book it to the bus-stop, trying to cram all her hair into her jacket and worryingly clutching her bag, likely afraid it would get soaked.

Anyone else, he'd be absolutely fine with leaving behind.

* * *

They had only been driving for a total of four minutes before his fingers were itching for a smoke. Without thinking about it, he went to light his cigarette, foot firm on the brake pedal before he remembered his passenger. Courtesy was not one of his strong points, so he fidgeted awkwardly for a moment, wondering if he should just light the damn thing and leave it or ask.

He could have just given her his umbrella so he wouldn't have to worry about the scenario, but it was too late to back out, at that point.

Fuck it, he might as well ask. She could have half a lung, or some less common disease, which would be interesting. And, on the off chance she did have some respiratory issues, the resulting conversation could overtake the silence. Yes, that was a good plan.

"Do you mind?" he asked, waving the cancer-stick around for a moment before the light turned green and he secured the steering wheel with one hand. He saw Marie's eye go wide at his question before her gentle voice rang out.

"No! I mean, I don't mind—It-it's your car."

He almost chuckled at how sweetly panicked she sounded, how amusing it all was. Personally, he had no need for propriety: he never understood general manners or "common courtesy", as it were, so he didn't expect for anyone to make such large efforts of being polite.

But, then why had he even asked?

He pushed the thought out of his head and shrugged, shifting to steer with his elbow so he could light his smoke and then immediately went back to grabbing the wheel as usual, the cigarette in his left hand where he could tap the ashes out the window. He clicked the button to open his window more, just a crack, and took in the scent of the damp air.

Cigarettes definitely calmed him, though he knew all the conflicting studies. It was why, when a random driver, seemingly desperate to race to the red light, screeched their way into the lane of opposite traffic in order to bypass him, the wheels skidding as they nearly hydroplaned, he was barely phazed.

Stein, for all his years of driving, only blinked impassively as he slowed down, allowing the moron to scream to a halt after cutting him off.

But he downright jumped when he heard Marie.

"Get the fuck off the road!" she yelled to the other car, slamming her hand against the door and Stein feared for the safety of his car almost immediately when he heard the bang. He had insurance, of course, but he had heard rumors of how Marie'd been called the "Pulverizer" when she was younger.

He supposed that was why.

His eyebrows when up and when he turned to look at her and found her usually kind expression in a snarl, her singular eye glaring balefully, the corners of his lips tipped up. He chuckled, securely waiting at the red light. At the sound, she swiveled her head and met his gaze, looking immediately embarrassed. However, it only lasted a second. It was when she spied the genuine humor on his face that her expression was replaced with a sheepish smile, and she bit her lip, clearly trying to hold down giggles.

"Sorry," she told him, but he had the distinct impression that she was anything but.

Passenger's road rage. That was a new one, for him.

He tapped his cigarette out of the window.

What a woman.


	7. Breathe Me

_Things You Said When You Were Crying_

* * *

He didn't know how to hold anyone. Had never known. Had no reason to learn. But Marie's shoulders shook in front of him as though the entire world was rumbling beneath her feet, and he thinks it must feel that way, for her. Stein doesn't think it's right of him to touch her, not really, not then. Not when she looked like the trembling leaves above her, the trees all but stripped.

But he stepped forward, anyway. She looked so fragile, then, and he had seen her demolish entire buildings to craters, before, watched, felt when she gave off sparks of electricity in the very air with each turn of her emotions. Seeing her trying to support herself against the bark of the tree, her face turned from him, attempting to clench all her sorrow inside of herself, all alone, he couldn't help but make his way to her.

With Marie, it always felt like she was the center, who he was ever-gravitating toward.

Something in his chest flopped, and he would go through a list of cardiac-related ailments that could be the cause were his head not so jumbled.

It didn't make sense that coming to her was so natural, and despite knowing that he could have been the murderer, probably was the murderer, had every ounce of evidence against him, she melted to him so easily when his hand came to the back of her head, pressing her face to his chest. If she wanted a place to hide, he would provide it.

He thinks he'd provide so much more than that, if she wanted.

She shook against him though it wasn't cold, and if he placed his hand on her back, he'd be able to catalogue each ragged breath.

"I'm sorry," he says, and the words are foreign in his mouth. He only knew comfort from watching others, from seeing shows Marie had insisted he sit with her for, from reading articles. What good would the knowledge be to him when he would barely be around anyone? When he had no one in the past who would find happiness in his touch?

But Marie had always been the exception, and what little he could give seemed to be enough. She uncurled from herself, instead leaning to him, and her hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, curled. His shirt was between her fingers as she clenched her fist, her other hand over her mouth as though to muffle her sobbing. He closed his eyes, bowing his head and hunching his shoulders as though to eclipse her from the entire world.

She was barely whispering, finally replying to what he had said, and despite how low it was, he could make out each word with startling clarity. Her voice was soft, broken, a watery call, but with determination in it despite it all.

 _"You didn't…do it…Don't…apologize."_

He didn't know when he'd started stroking over her hair instead of simply holding the back of her head, but he furled in around her more, tangling his fingers.

And her hold on him tightened.

* * *

 **Hey all! I hope you're enjoying this drabble dump! I just wanted to give a big thanks to all the Anon reviewers I've gotten recently! One in particular has been asking for a certain request, and if I could, I'd like to direct any and all requests to my Tumblr, DollyPopUp! That way, I can actually reply to you! Thank you so much!**


	8. Stumble

_Things You Said When You Were Drunk_

* * *

In hindsight, he should have known better than to drink at the party. A piece of him was utterly baffled as to how he was practically nonfunctional when Marie was still absolutely upright. How someone so small could hold their liquor so well eluded him. When they were younger, partners for the first time in the DWMA and sneaking swigs of cheap, dishwater beer Stein despised, she joked that it was her Viking blood: she still had that ancestry, just condensed into a 4 foot 8 woman who weighed less than what he lifted with one arm for training.

She could be on to something. He knew it wasn't weapon blood that altered alcohol's effects on the body, considering Spirit couldn't even handle three mojitos before he was sprawled out on the nearest table, shooting bedroom eyes to the nearest creature with a pulse.

And, sometimes, without one.

Not that Stein was too much better in his current state, swaying and grinning with Marie shaking her head, slowly herding him in the general direction of a bed. They'd been lucky enough to get dropped off at the lab via Naigus's superior driving skills, as well as her aversion to anything alcoholic, and so they didn't have too far to go from his (their?) porch.

And– oh.

Oh, no, the world was _spinning_.

He groaned, almost pitching forward as his body refused to cooperate. He likely would have eaten the filthy floors of his own lab if it weren't for Marie's soft hands coming to his shoulders.

Even with the support, he slumped over. One of his palms, likely from habit, tried to come to his bolt.

And missed.

By a good few inches.

Instead, his fingers hit his hair and for a single second, he found himself confused.

It took his brain an embarrassingly long time to come to life, and after a moment, he finally located his bolt and managed to click it back.

No good, the world was still swimmy. With a noise of annoyance from the back of his throat, he immediately allowed his arm to fall back down and atop one of Marie's shoulders as she adjusted her hold on him.

He should have known better.

But with the Kishin defeated and the madness wavelength contained, as well as Medusa's influence entirely eradicated from his life, he finally felt like he could…relax.

Besides which, the party sending off Azusa and Justin so they could go back to their stations in East Asia and Europe was so full of relief, so safe, he wanted to unwind for once. And, also, maybe to forget that Marie would be getting the same kind of party.

The Kishin was defeated. He was stable. The kids were healed and Death City reconstructed. Crona's trial came and went, leaving the child with Maka.

Marie had no reason to stay.

Death, it was so stupid of him. After Spirit threw his guts up in a grand total of six potted plants, Azusa ending up sprawled on the floor, and Sid slung over Naigus's shoulder, Marie had finally noticed that her own Meister had ended up having a conversation with a wall after somehow losing his glasses.

That was when she decided that he was too drunk to function, requesting a ride so that they could come back home.

To the house.

Back to the lab.

Back home.

Marie sighed as she helped him up his stairs, and his feet felt clumsy. What was he expecting, drinking Spirit under the table while Marie sipped from the only cup she'd had all evening? Of course he'd end up plastered and she'd have to make sure he wouldn't accidentally maim himself via lack of hand-eye coordination. Good going, on his part. That was the way to…

To what? Forget? Convince her to stay?

Stupid.

His head settled atop Marie's and he burrowed his nose in her hair.

Marie. She smelled like sunshine and wine-cooler.

It wasn't as gross as he would have previously assumed. Wine-cooler, that was. Not Marie. Never Marie. Marie was _great_. Marie was good. His Marie was too good.

Eventually, they managed to make their way to the room he rarely used, where he actually had a bed that he suspected contained more dust than stuffing. Marie deposited him down atop his mattress, and he flopped to his side, rolling to his back and closing his eyes to the sudden rush in his head that the action caused. She must have been shaking her head, because her voice, softened so as to prevent any headaches on his part, rang out.

"Honestly, Stein," she started, likely rolling her eye and folding her arms. "Whiskey?"

He only hummed, cracking an eye open. From what he could make out of her blurry shape, she was doing exactly as he predicted. He tipped his lips up at how well he knew her. She threw her arms out in exasperation.

"Just get some sleep, okay?" she asked, and he nodded, just once, in agreement.

But he panicked when she turned around. Leaving.

She was leaving.

His Marie was leaving and, irrational as it was, the very thought made his entire body clench.

With a speed that made him feel dizzy, his hand whipped out to grasp her wrist and she jolted, immediately whipping her head to the side so she could look at him.

"Stein-" she started, her brows coming together in confusion, but he didn't let her finish.

"Don't go," he said, and she blinked at him, her lower lip dropping down, her eye going wide.

She looked like she was going to say something, but then she looked at where he was holding her arm, fingers gentle on her skin, even when he was just one shot away from being drunk enough to start dancing disco.

Her smile started to form again, this time more slowly. When she looked at him, he felt warm at how tender her gaze was.

"Okay," she answered, and he could make out the faintest tinge of gold on her skin, her smile making his entire body relax. She slowly stepped forward, sitting down on his bed with him, and he couldn't let go of her arm.

Or, rather, he could, but he didn't want to. Her wavelength was putting him at ease.

She was putting him at ease.

"Okay?" he questioned, memorizing her pleased, gentle expression.

She hummed for a moment, her spare hand coming atop where he was still grasping her so she could rub her thumb over his knuckles.

"Yes," she assured, still stroking over the back of his hand, and he melted to her entirely, something that seemed to make her smile intensify, her gaze almost. . .loving.

Something in him stuttered.

"Okay," he said. And as she scooted closer to him on the bed, he wondered if she understood that he wanted her to stay for more than just the night.


	9. Baby Talk

_Things You Said When You Thought I Was Asleep_

* * *

It was when she was awakened for the fifth time from her nap that she determined that Ein would never let her have any proper sleep. Once, fine. Twice, even. But after number five, she was convinced that her child was just rude, and it wasn't fair. She was too tired to even open her eyes, not finding it in her to move.

And then she heard it: the soft, tenor murmuring coming from her side. For a moment, she was confused, her sleep-deprived mind trying to connect who would be next to her.

Stein, of course. Who else? No other person on the planet would ever come to Patchwork Labs, and certainly not next to her while she was in bed,

Last she checked, most people enjoyed having their organs _in_ their abdomen: they likely wouldn't take too kindly to Stein whipping out his scalpels. Partially, she knows it's because he's been in desperate want of a new test subject, but also that, as she rounded out to her sixth month of pregnancy, her bloated belly making her ankles swell and her shoulders hunch, he'd gotten more concerned with almost every other thing in regards to her and their baby.

She doesn't mind. Not really. It was nice to have a partner who put her first.

Though, she told him to stop reading all those pregnancy statistics: he had a calender of them, marking off each day. "87% of pregnant mothers experience… .on day…"

She almost groaned. He had everything written down: from when she had morning sickness to how often she wanted sex. The man was a scientist down to his very core.

But, what he was saying didn't sound very medical. In fact, she couldn't even make out the language for a good few moments.

Not until she strained her ears did she realize it wasn't German, and certainly not English.

Yiddish, she realized with a start. He was speaking Yiddish and the only reason she knew was because she had overheard him on the phone with his mother before she went to nap. There was nothing strange about that, save for the fact that, though he usually spoke to his mother in German, he had switched over to a different language Marie had to ask him about.

She couldn't really make out what he said, but it sounded comforting, almost like prayer, the foreign syllables hushed and tender as his fingers drummed on her bellybutton so gently, she could barely feel it.

It was more soothing than she thinks he knows. Because Ein seemed placated, eased by whatever it was Stein was saying.

His palm was warm and comforting on her stomach: she knew he would usually be hesitant to be so soft when she was awake. He must not have realized she had been taken from her slumber by their rambunctious child.

Though, rambunctious no more. Ein was calm for the first time in what felt like hours. And, with Stein settled next to her, his soul flared up as though protection, Marie found herself breathing deeper, lulled to sleep.

* * *

 **Sooooo, this drabble dump is about to get bumped up to being rated M. I've gotten a lot of more mature requests recently! Just wanted to give anyone reading a heads up!**


	10. Hello? It's Me

_Things You Said With Too Many Miles Between Us_

* * *

She called him too many times to be healthy. At least, that was what Kami said, but Kami thought calling him even once was too much.

Nonetheless, Marie thinks that her close friend is, for once, right. How many times was she going to torture herself with calling Stein when she was trying to adjust herself to Oceania's timezone, attempting to get over her jetlag? How many times was she going to listen to the dial tone, dreaded the fact that he wouldn't answer?

When the droning, mechanical sound came through once more, informing her that his phone was ringing, she held her breath. Her lungs felt cold and almost all of her felt jittery and nervous.

 _"We can't come to the phone-"_

She hung up.

Every time, she would wait with everything inside of her coiled tightly, tense, not wanting to hear the voicemail message they recorded together.

Perhaps he was angry at her. Maybe he was resentful that she left, but she had never wanted to. She wanted to stay in Death City, with him and all her other friends: she didn't want to feel alone in Oceania, lugging around paperwork, in charge of too many people, halfway around the world.

He was the one who wanted to make her a Death Scythe. He had no right, no right at all, to avoid her calls.

But, then, she realizes that he likely wasn't. Maybe he didn't even hear the phone ring. He'd always been so caught up in his experiments, often times not even realizing if she was in the room with him.

She takes a deep breath and calls once more, her fingers playing with the cord of the phone.

 _"We can't come to the phone right now! Plea- oh, just say please, Franken!-…Please leave a message after the beep!"_

Marie almost wanted to giggle. It took them twelve tries to get the recording, and even then, she had simply given up. Her cheerful tone mixed with his deadpan, making for a humorous contrast.

She just wanted to see him again. Hear him saying something other than the prerecorded message. She took in a deep breath, her heart flopping in her chest.

"I miss you."


	11. Dad Jokes

_Things You Said I Wasn't Meant To Hear_

* * *

"Mother _fucker_!"

It seemed to ring through the entire lab.

Stein stared at his dropped toast placidly, blinking when he realized that it had fallen butter-side down. Another curse came from the bathroom, followed by a mighty, thunderous crash of multiple bath products, near none of which were his.

He really did want that toast. It had been a while since he'd dropped anything, too: having a surgeon's hands came in handy (and he does pride himself on the pun) in multiple ways. However, in his defense, such vulgarity was only common in his home when it was coming from him, and though he had conducted a myriad of experiments on himself, one to pitch his voice up so high was not on the list.

Marie, then. Before he knew it, he felt himself snort, making his way to the bathroom. The one and only time he'd heard her curse, it had been when she was fourteen, after someone got bubblegum in her hair and she threw them through a tree.

He thinks that, were she not in the shower, when he gently knocked against the door, calling out "You rang?", she'd likely throw him through the wall. His wall. Their wall.

Her squeak of "Weren't you asleep?" called out, and he listened in to yet another crash, a bottle of some sort likely having slipped from her fingers in her surprise. It was her fault for taking such long showers: he was certainly sleeping when she first stepped in, but after forty-five minutes, one would expect for their slumbering partner to have awakened to the glorious alarm of their pregnant partner singing Disney songs.

He assumed she hadn't wanted him to hear any of it, but, when what he said caught up to her, after she pieced together his rather brilliant joke, her frustrated cry of "Franken, for the love of-" was cut off by his chuckling.

Now, _that_ he intended to be heard.


	12. Pokemon

There were certain times in Marie's life when she looked back upon what decisions she made and wondered why she made them. Times such as then, when she was left blinking at the fluffy creature in front of her, her singular eye taking in every single fleck of the sheep-Pokemon's fur.

She should have expected it. She should have prepared herself.

"She's you," Stein said simply, looking at her with the familiar shit-eating grin she knew and often groaned at.

"She's a Mareep," she insisted, refusing to acknowledge the fact that the poor thing's tail and horns were a direct match to the clothes she was wearing at the very moment, a black dress with gold trimmings. If this was Stein's way of telling her that he didn't like her perm, she was going to slaughter him. She closed her eye and took in a deep breath. "What did you name her?" she asked, already dreading the answer.

"Marie."

Her eye opened, her lips scrunching to the side. "You named the Mareep, Marie?" she hissed, glaring.

His grin seemed to get even wider, but he said nothing in response.

"Why am I even dating you?" she asked, looking up at her ceiling as though it could give her answers.

His voice was amused. "Not a clue," he said cheerfully, and when she glanced back at him, he was absentmindedly petting the Pokemon. It was almost as bad as the time he got her a Pichu and said nothing but "aesthetic".

And she thought the Electabuzz was overkill.

When Marie's eye met Marie's, the two of them seemingly sharing an instantaneous bond, she knew in her heart of hearts what was going to happen. And when she opened her mouth, softly shaping the words, Marie's gaze looked knowing.

"Thunder shock," Marie said, and Marie the Mareep, in return, sparked up, the wool going electric, shocking Stein. He yanked his hand away, shaking it as though it would soothe the sting, and Marie grinned, lifting a brow.

"You know what? You're right. She is me," Marie claimed, voice lilting in amusement when she walked over to where Stein was grumbling to kiss his cheek. He must not have been too mad at her, considering he hunched down to make it easier on the petite woman. "Thank you," she said, patting his cheek.

The static shock was purely unintentional.


	13. (Ass)umptions

"Woah, what's got Mjolnir in such a good mood?" Spirit asked. "Haven't seen her so cheerful in a while."

Next to him, Stein simply took in another drag of his cigarette, watching Marie from his spot on the bench as she handed out cookies to students. Stein merely shrugged, exhaling the smoke slowly, the blissful burn in his lungs intensifying with each second he held out on fresh air. Spirit turned to look at him, the redhead's green eyes narrowing.

"…she totally got laid last night."

Stein closed his eyes. Ah, there it was. His friend, and he does use that term loosely, often had only one thing on his mind.

"You might not want to let her hear you say that," Stein replied, stifling the urge to yawn while he continued smoking. But Spirit wouldn't let up.

"Dude, she probably got tongue-shoveled. She's way too happy."

Stein thinks he actually stopped breathing. "What?" he spat out, the cigarette dangling in his mouth as he turned to look at Spirit with a confused look on his face.

"Hm? Oh, you know: tongue-shoveled. It's when you-"

"No, that isn't what I wanted clarification on-"

"lick a woman's-"

"Spirit don't-"

"-holy hole-"

"We're at work-"

"-her pleasure wound-"

"Spirit-"

"-her panty hamster-"

"You need to be euthanized-"

"-her-"

"Shut up, Senpai, don't make me dissect you, again" Stein commanded, slapping a hand over the other man's mouth just in time for Marie to look over at them, waving and smiling. Stein blinked at her, his mouth tilting into a semblance of a smile. He used his free hand to wave once, before moving his attentions back to Spirit, whose eyes were wide after watching the display. When Stein moved his palm away, Spirit was all too loud.

"It was you!"

"Senpai-"

"Oh my Death!"

"Senp-"

"Was it you?!"

"Spiri-"

"I didn't know you had it in you!"

"Spirit-"

"Did she give you hea-"

The glint of scalpel was, oddly enough, especially effective in silencing him.

* * *

 **Part one in an infinite list of Third Wheel! Spirit ideas I've had! Stay tuned for parts 2 through 5!**


	14. (Ass)umptions 2

The teachers lounge was supposed to be a safe haven. A safe haven free from students, and grading, and loud, ridiculous former weapon partners who everyone was fond of referring to as Stein's "best friend".

But it wasn't. Safe havens didn't exist, it seemed.

"Happy Birthday, Buddy," Spirit said, grinning when he walked into the room and plopped a box onto the other man's lap.

In his chair, Stein could only stare at him. "It isn't my birthday."

"Well, I'm early, then."

"Especially when you don't want to be," Stein commented, shifting his cigarette around in his mouth at Spirit's offended gasp. The amusement on the younger man's face was dampened, however, when he finally looked down at the 'gift' his former weapon decided to bestow upon him.

"Condoms. Really?" Stein asked, throwing the box back to the redhead, who immediately threw it back.

"Really."

"Senpai, you aren't my type."

At that, the elder made a disgusted face, arms flailing. "Stein, no!" but Stein only blew some smoke out into Spirit's face, his deadpan expression holding firm. Spirit scowled, waving the plume away and rolling his eyes. "I figure you might need them," he said, tossing them back, and this time, Stein looked at the box once more, lifting a brow.

"I have no use for these."

"Stein, you're living with Mjolnir."

He looked up. "Yes."

"…and you're _living_ with _Mjolnir_."

"Changing the emphasis in that statement does not alter anything. Yes. I am living with Marie. And I fail to see how she has anything to do with these," Stein remarked.

"Are you kidding me? Have you seen how she looks at you?"

"Yes." Rather hard not to, considering the night they'd spent naked together when he was staring down at her, watching her face contort in pleasure. Not that it was any of Spirit's business.

Spirit could only stare, unblinking, as the man in front of him continued to smoke, nonchalant. "You're living with Marie 'More-Curves-Than-a-Racetrack' Mjolnir, and she always looks like she wants to bang you and you always look like you wanna screw her, and you're telling me you don't need condoms."

"Not this kind," Stein replied, his eyes locking with Spirit's.

"Wha-"

"This particular size might work fine for you, Senpai, but, personally, they're small," Stein said, a grin forming on his face when he threw the box back and Spirit gaped at him, his hands missing the catch.

"Stein-"

But the other man already pushed himself away, spinning toward the exit and, as per usual, fell flat on his back when the wheels hit the raised edge.

Spirit looked at the contraception on the floor and then at his former Meister, exasperated. "Jackass."


	15. (Ass)umptions 3

Spirit sighed. He trusted Maka to do well in her exercises with Soul, but it would take a while for her to adjust to him being a Death Scythe. For the time being, all he could do was believe in his baby girl, but watching her set to the skies, soaring up into the clouds: well, it made him just a tad emotional. Marie was smiling, too, her hands absentmindedly playing with the hem of her shirt as she stared up.

"They grow up so fast," Spirit commented, remembering when Maka was so small he could hold her in one hand, how he used to read to her. Marie giggled and nodded, which sent her blonde hair in front of her shoulders. She carelessly flicked it away just as Spirit looked down at her, and her hand managed to move her collar enough to show him a glimpse of-

"Woah woah woah, is that a hickey?" he asked, immediately shocked out of his sentimental stupor. Marie's eye went wide, her palm clapping down overtop where the mark was under her collar.

"No! I…I burned myself…accidentally."

Spirit raised a brow, his lips twitching. "Yeah?" Kami used the exact same excuse in the past, back before they were official. "How'd you manage that one?"

"I was curling my hair!" Marie said, but her voice was raising up, a blush coming over her face.

"Oh? My, that curling iron must have teeth," he teased, giddy at being able to tease her.

"It's just a burn, Spirit, stop being a jerk!"

Spirit tipped his head back, letting loose a chortle. "Ah, c'mon, Marie! I'm me! I know a hickey when I see one."

"It isn't a hickey!" she argued, refusing to admit defeat. Spirit grinned at how stubborn she was.

"Is that why you've been wearing higher collars? Man, I was wondering."

"Don't pay attention to my neckline, you pervert!" Marie yelled, smacking Spirit on the shoulder, which stung more than he thought Marie knew. He winced, flinching away from her and taking a few steps back, raising his hands up in the general gesture for peace.

"Calm down! Jeez, you don't know how strong you are."

Marie huffed, looking away. After a pause, Spirit stared at her, his mind bringing up the fact that she wasn't the only person who'd taken to buttoning up a tad more, and he gasped when it finally hit him. "Wait a minute, you and Stein…Death, is that why the two of you have been so cheerful lately? That means I won the betting pool-"

"Betting pool!?" Marie asking, whirling around. Before Spirit could deflect, or tease her for the dark red flush over her face that indicated how right he truly was, Marie's punch was wailing him across the chin, her eye closed in mortification.

It was only later, while he was nursing his swollen cheek in Nygus' office that he realized Marie never denied his accusations of just who was to blame for mouth-marking her.

"Stein, my man," he said, into the empty office, the pride echoing.

Though, the busted lip certainly muffled it.


	16. (Ass)umptions 4

"Something wrong, Senpai?"

Spirit jolted slightly at the question, standing around awkwardly in the other man's living room. He was chewing the inside of his lip, looking around the room and ignoring the almost sadistic glint to Stein's gaze.

"Senpai?" Stein prodded, again.

Spirit sighed. There was no delicate way to put it.

"Look, uh…I need to sit down."

Stein blinked, sparing a glance at the two purple monstrosities that Marie'd dragged into his home what felt like ages ago, when she first started calling it home, too.

"Yeah, about that," Spirit started, noticing the movement, "I'd rather sit down somewhere the two of you _haven't_ had sex."

"Hm," Stein remarked, taking a second to glance around. He was incredibly tempted just to direct Spirit to whichever surface was closest, but his comment certainly brought up a point. Quickly, the scientist surveyed the room, moving his sight to a different area whenever it didn't pass Spirit's conditions. Spirit, for his part, made a face when the other man looked over at his window and then passed it by.

"Really, Stein? People can see you from there."

"I'm thinking, Senpai."

Spirit rolled his eyes and moved to lean against one of the filing cabinets under the assumption that, well, he couldn't exactly sit on the thing, and it wasn't very comfortable anyway, but Stein only looked at him and then away.

Spirit got the hint pretty fast and went upright immediately.

"Maybe we could move to the kitchen?" Spirit suggested, clearly wondering when last the lab was sterilized, though there was plenty of pride on his face.

Stein blinked and turned his head so he could better peer at the doorway that led to what Marie had designated as the kitchen, after she informed him that, for Death's sake, she would _not_ be cooking for them utilizing nothing but a Bunsen burner. He didn't know why she was so picky about it all, but proper meals were nice, so he didn't really complain.

When he looked up, thinking, Spirit coughed into his fist.

"You know what? It's okay…I can stand."

"That would be for the best," Stein conceded, ruling out the stove.

And the sink.


	17. (Ass)umptions 5

Spirit Albarn didn't want to remind everyone that he called it.

Except that he absolutely, totally called it.

He called it ever since Lord Death paired him with Stein, ever since he was 12, and saw that, of all the children in the entire school Stein would gladly beat up, Marie Mjolnir was the only one he deemed untouchable.

No, not untouchable. He wanted to be all up on that Scandinavian mouth.

But, Spirit digresses.

He called it from the very beginning. He didn't buy the "Just friends" argument. Hell, he didn't even buy the "Stop talking" or the "I'm going soul stitch you to the tree and leave you there without your organs" argument. No sir. Spirit knew his Meister, through and through, and he knew love when he saw it. And, okay, so he maybe possibly read some of Stein's notes, which were mostly creepy observations on the state of putrefaction of various corpses, but also included sporadic question marks around Marie's name.

Curious to a fault, Stein just didn't understand why anyone, least of all the Pulverizer, a girl who had at least 6 boys pining for her, a pretty girl with hair like spun gold and eyes like the sweetest caramel, would get _him_ of all people gifts, not to mention company and support.

So, Stein was one, two, a dozen years too late in finally realizing that, yes, Marie Mjolnir has been wanting to tap that (and the pun is fully intended) to next Tuesday, but at least he finally got the hint! And Spirit had called it since they were kids.

So he thinks he's got the right to gloat to anyone and everyone, especially after buying his best friend a cake that simply read, eloquently, 'Congrats on the Sex'.

Everyone in Death City had already suffered having to listen to him talk about how no one else had faith, but he did, so he supposed it was time for him to tell people outside of Death City.

Alright, so he already did that on DeathBook, where he made a status with a few too many suggestive emojis, but his ex-wife had blocked him on all social media, so she was the last one he could possibly tell before he made the rounds and gloated to everyone for a second time.

The phone, for once, wasn't heavy in his hands, but light, and he feels fizzy and smug as he dials the familiar number that never changed, no matter how many times Kami insisted he stop calling her for anything other than reports on how Maka was doing in school.

Really, she could call Death for that information. So, he figured she accepted that he would call her up when she didn't change her number, be that he was reporting on the various state of apocalypse, or the status of Stein's virginity, while she was tied up with trying to hold off enemy forces on the other side of the world while Spirit held down base, valiantly, in Death City.

Regardless, he is too excited as he waits for the call to go through, and he hops about from foot to foot as the ring echoes in his ear. He is so giddy that, when the line connects with a click obscured only slightly by static, he opens his mouth immediately, cutting straight to the chase since he figured the phone bill was high enough as it was.

"Spirit?" Kami calls out, her absolute exasperation sounding weary and well practiced. "We're in the middle of construction, Spirit, I'm busy-" But he doesn't let her get any farther in her excuse to hang up on him, especially not since he wouldn't put it past her to pull the "You're going through a tunnel!" trick as she made garbled noises in the back of her throat, just as his darling daughter did.

"They're pregnant!" he blurts out, his grin stretching over his teeth so hard he thinks his face will be permanently molded. "They're pregnant and she's gonna retire and the baby is due on-

"Wait wait wait wait wait!" Kami breaks in, horror in each intact of air. "What?" she spits out, her voice incredulous. "Maka? Is it Maka? Is Maka pregnant? I will fucking murder whatever boy-"

"Death, no! No!" Spirit says, his hand flailing in front of him though Kami can't see. "If anyone ever touches my baby girl-"

"Then what the hell, Spirit? Who? What's going on?" Kami interrogated, rage and frustration seeping into her words. She sounds like she'd throttle him were she in front of him, and he cannot help but be thankful that she was on the other side of the world. Regardless, though he was momentarily clouded by the horrific idea of his darling cupcake, his sunshine, his life and stars and moon and everything good in his life daughter being defiled by anyone at all, he was instantly reminded of the good news he had, instead. Ah, his (ex) Meister. He had never been happier for his friends.

"Marie!" he chirps out. "She's pregnant!"

There a beat of silence, and when Kami's voice comes back, it's so threatening, he wonders how he's still alive. "She's pregnant? With whose baby?"

Spirit's smile started to curl mischievously. "Aw, c'mon, Kami. Who do you think?"

"If you say it-"

"Which means I won the betting pool!" he added, the smugness near palpable, and at that, the truth couldn't be concealed any longer. Kami felt her blood pressure increase, a vein threatening to pop from her sudden emotions.

All Spirit heard on the other end was a crash, something falling, likely the phone, and he found his brows twitching together. "Kami?"

But she didn't hear him, having already moved away. In the background, Spirit heard the confused murmurs of others around her, snippets of "General. . . are. . .'kay?" and "What's. . .problem?" before, with all the suddenness of a bolt of lightning, a massive shriek split through the receiver and Spirit yanked the phone away from his ear.

"GET ME A FLIGHT TO DEATH CITY!"

"M-ma'am-"

"NOW!"

"Kami?" he called, once more. He thought that the woman's utter hatred for Stein would ebb at the news: after all, Marie had been interested in Stein since they were schoolkids at the DWMA, and it was some of the best information Spirit had ever heard that she finally got to ride that like a circus pony.

Wouldn't Kami be happy for her? After all, there wouldn't be a betting pool if there wasn't some kind of possibility.

Although, now that he thinks about it, Kami did include that if anyone but she or Naigus won, the two of them having determined that it would never, not in a million years happen, that she would personally gut Stein and make it so that he couldn't ever have children: not with Marie, not with anyone.

But that was just a joke, right? Kami wouldn't go and-

Okay, she absolutely would, but the odds of her managing to get a flight to Death City so soon after the defeat of the Kishin was near impossible, so he didn't have anything to worry about.

Plus, Spirit was still so overjoyed that he won so much money, having called the fact, as he said, that his (ex) Meister, in all his 30 years of life, finally found the one woman who was willing to help him get laid.

Miracles did happen, after all. Even Death was surprised, and he was omnipotent.

Kami's scream got louder as she seemed to step to the phone, the sound of frantic fumbling taking place and he could almost swallow her absolute fury, it was so thick, before he heard someone call out "General, not at the statue-" and the connection went dead.

Spirit blinked a few times, moving his phone away from his ear and staring down at it.

Well.

That went infinitely better than he expected.


	18. Witch Ain't One

There was a heavy feeling in the air as Stein watched Medusa's body turn to ashes. Her final, ominous warning, that she would see him in hell, was met with little more than a scoff from Marie, still in her weapon form, and Stein's hold on her tightened as though in reassurance.

"Well," he began, the pillar crumbling in front of them as he started to grin in relief, the slightest hint of amusement coming into his voice.

Maka turned to look at him, wondering why he wasn't rushing over to Crona. "Professor?"

"Oh my Death, Stein, really?" Marie called from her weapon form, knowing what he was going to say even before he said it. He readjusted her, her hammer form heavy and comforting in his palm, before his grin widened.

"Maka, ding dong-" he continued.

"Professor, what?" Maka asked, confusion showing on her face, her brows furrowed and her mouth squishing up the side. But Stein's grin only grew ever the more amused.

"The witch is dead," he said, enjoying his own joke far too much.

Marie transformed back into her human form, and he turned to look at her as Maka groaned, bringing her fingers to the bridge of her nose. Ah, no one appreciated good humor, anymore. He was expecting for Marie to chide him, but when he heard her giggle, her lips tipped up, he could only look at her in awe as she placed one hand on her hip, popping it out.

"I guess you could say you have 99 problems but a witch ain't one?" Marie asked, lifting a brow, and though she was, without doubt, tired, he could see how amusement was twisting her expression.

And, as Maka groaned even louder in the background, Soul joining in, Stein stared at Marie with something akin to utter devotion in his eyes.

Well, so much for no one else appreciating his jokes.

He didn't really understand what love was, but damn did he felt pretty close.


	19. Apple of My Eye

He knows that if she ever finds out just how much he is hers, _just_ how much his soul, his self, aches for her, it could be his undoing. He has long learned that he is not _meant_ to want. Men made monsters are _meant_ to hole out in hideaways locked far from the tenderness of other people. And he is, was, undoubtedly, kept on the outskirts. On purpose. By choice. Or, perhaps he has only convinced himself it is by choice.

Truthfully, it is because he was unwanted: an outsider, even in the DWMA where the weirdos all collect and find solidarity. So, he kept himself in an empty lab, hoarding trinkets he could undo and remake, textbooks, beakers. He was a dragon in the belly of the lab and he knew it, and he knew no one sane would ever step foot, willingly, into such a graveyard.

But _she_ does. She did, before, too. Marie does. And he wonders if he has been hers since she did so, or since he first saw her, when she was a little girl with little fists and too much destruction in her veins. He knows he is hers, now. Perhaps he always was, perhaps he was since she came back into his life, once more, brought color to the gray of his home.

He had always been slate, steel. Cold and frigid, his eyes a needle-like stare with unearthly green that resembled nothing in nature. No one could claim he had eyes like grass, like leaves. Perhaps if those leaves were dead, one could make the comparison. But, no one had seen his eyes up close for long, either. He hid, always. In his lab, on the outskirts, behind glasses, under long, shaggy gray hair.

It is because he is hers that she can see him. It is because he is hers, has always been hers, that he lets her push his hair back and observe his eyes as they lay down together, side by side. His legs are curled up, tangling with her own, and her hands are soft and gentle and his mouth feels dry, lined with words he feels but cannot say, does not know how to say. For all his eloquence, all his education, he is unable to articulate, now, when it most counts.

And yet, Marie smiles. And women like Marie do not smile at men made monsters, so he supposes he is just what she has always seen him as: painfully human in every way. Her fingers trace over his self inflicted scars and the scars he did not cause and she steps willingly into the graveyard of his stare.

" _You know…you have a lot of gold in your eyes_ ," she says, and he knows only _she_ could find warmth where he had merely saw frost, before.

He does not know how to tell her that it is because she is there, now. Metaphorical apple of his eye, her light a reflection in his iris. He does not know how to tell her how he feels, what he feels, but he knows _she_ can feel it in their resonance.

So he only smiles, soft and rare, lips tipped up just barely at the edges.

He does not know how to tell her that he is hers, but perhaps she already knows, knows just how much he belongs to her, has fallen for her and to her. Perhaps he is already undone, unwound. And, as her glowing fingers trace the scar beneath his eye, her wavelength thrumming against him, her lips parting to speak of another color she has found in his stare, he thinks that, with her, he has never truly been on the outskirts, after all.

* * *

 **Whoops. I've been writing a TON over on Tumblr and Ao3 and sort of started to neglect FF D: Sorry, y'all.**


	20. Won't You Turn The Music Up?

Stein despised Spirit. It felt like a common enough thought in his head. The regret of being his friend was particularly high when he had to readjust the tie he was forced to wear in order to enact his "duty" as Spirit's best man.

After bearing witness to Spirit vomiting, multiple times, due to nerves, the man sniffling so bad Stein had to hand over a tissue during the vows, and flat out weeping when he kissed his, now, wife, Kami, Stein had enough. Honestly, he'd had enough at the bachelor party, which really turned into Spirit getting so drunk, he ended up in the bathtub, singing Kesha and gargling with Tequila. The photographs Stein took were already posted on every single social media Spirit was a member of. And the fact that Stein had to create accounts for most of them was no problem: the sheer embarrassment the redhead would experience more than made up for it.

Now, though, Stein was stuck at a table with a frilly, ivory cloth over it that he purposefully spilled wine over. The cake had already been cut, the first dances had, and now, it was the pointless open dance, to which he wanted no part of. Especially considering everyone else was crammed on the floor, jumping around, rather terribly, to lord knows what heinous song the DJ was playing.

Stein hadn't bothered with checking who it was, and they weren't in his line of vision. From his spot at the table, he had no need. He just had to hold out until the stupid wedding reception was over, Spirit was out of his life for a good week, and then he could finally relax for the first time in his life since he was, oh, 9 years old when he met Spirit in Middle School. He had no reason to get up whatsoever.

That was, until his song came on.

His. Song.

Not in the sense that the youth referred to it, but his actual song. The one he recorded back in college. Assaulting him without mercy was the familiar bass line Sid played and the wicked guitar solo Naigus thought up on the spot, and Spirit's drumming and dear Moses, that was his voice.

Oh. Oh no. That would not do. That was unacceptable. Stein whipped his head up, finding Spirit's eye, his shit-eating grin, his stupid hip shimmy that he thought was attractive when it really looked like someone threw an ice-cube down his boxers. Had he known?

Stein almost pinched the bridge of his nose. Of course he knew. He probably requested the damned thing. Hell, he probably gave it to the DJ specifically to torment Stein. Stein glowered, readjusting his tie before he simply removed it, standing up. No wonder Spirit specifically wanted a DJ to play and not a band. Ugh, the last time Stein played music with anyone was years ago, back before Medical School and becoming a licensed surgeon and oh, ew, did his voice just crack over the damn speakers? Was that intentional? He couldn't even remember, but people were starting to look at him and considering he couldn't climb under that stupid table and hide out for a million years from sheer embarrassment, he figured he'd have to do the next best thing.

His hulking, 6 foot 10 tall frame towered over mostly everyone, making it suddenly easy for him to locate the turntable when he actually looked for it. Behind it, one headphone on her ear, was probably someone he'd card for liquor. Hell, he'd card her for cigarettes, if he was honest. Not only was she small, dwarfed by all her equipment, but she had her hair in pigtails of all things, highlighting the youthfulness of her face.

Dainty and pixie-like and all that shit aside, he had to put a stop to that damn song. As he stomped off, he heard Kami's giggle chime out.

When he got to the table and the woman looked at him with one wide, amber eye, the other hidden behind an ornate eyepatch, and a warm blush seemed to spread over her nose as she had to tilt her head back to keep eye contact. Suddenly, she was smiling, eyelashes batting at him.

And he couldn't help but feel that he was just set up for something.

* * *

 **Because the idea of Stein having been in a band makes me downright chortle. Written for a request over on Tumblr aaaaages ago.**


	21. Pendulum

The couches were a good idea.

Yes, he despised the color of them, so garish and wincingly bright, and he also highly disliked the fact that they took up almost all of what had once been nothing but clear chair room. In fact, he had a lot of laments about those couches. He could probably write an entire dissertation on the subject.

However, if there was one thing those couches were good for, it was for dropping things.

When he heard the rummaging, he had thought nothing of it. Marie often bumped into things due to her blind spot, and he was certain that she could fend for herself against the coffee table. Even when he heard the curse, he was determined to finish his cigarette in relative peace and stare at the blank computer screen, willing words to appear.

Words never appeared.

He sighed, cracking his neck and throwing his arms over his head, listening to the pop of his shoulders as they loosened.

Though, how he could hear anything at all over the sound of Marie's rustling, he didn't know. It was going on for far longer than usual. What in Death's name was she doing?

Swiftly, with the grace of a drugged giraffe, he kicked off from his desk, adjusting the angle so he would, hopefully, not fall over this time.

No such luck. The doors were no problem, as his back collided with them, throwing them open, and for a single moment, he thought he would finally be victorious.

The door-edge tripped up his wheels, however, sending him flat on his back with his legs dangling off his chair, his glasses going slightly askew. He's heard it said that doing the same thing multiple times and expecting different outcomes were what the true definition of insanity was.

He begs to differ.

He tried adjusting his angle by at least 3 degrees to the left.

Regardless, he adjusted his glasses, blinking a few times as he took in the scene. Marie hadn't even turned around at the commotion he made, too accustomed to his antics after living with him for months in the present and for years in the past, when they were originally partners.

He didn't remember her looking like that back when they were 16, though.

She had, he assumed, dropped something beneath her (she would insisttheir but, truly, it was her) couch, and it must have rolled because she was on hands and knees, stretching her arm under the small space underneath the couch to try to reach whatever it was. She had moved the coffee table out of the way, and she had her cheek pressed to the upholstery in efforts to reach farther.

She had short limbs due to being so, well, short, and he supposed it would be decent of him to offer his longer reach in aiding her. But.

Butt.

His eyes were flicking back and forth, following the motions she made as she wiggled, trying to find those extra few centimeters that would ensure that her fingers would skim whatever object, likely a pen or something equally as inconsequential, that had rolled under the couch.

He knew she could just lift it if she really wanted to, so he didn't offer his help.

Dear Death, it was like a pendulum. Back and forth and back and forth and back and-

"Franken?" she asked, her blind side facing him. "Could you get my pen? Your arms are longer than mine."

-forth and back and-

"Franken?"

"Hm? Oh. Yes, Marie?"

"Could. . .you get my pen? I dropped it."

Of course she chose today of all days to slip out her long skirt and find her comfort in her sleep shorts early. Was she swaying on purpose? Death help him. He'd noticed before, of course. It was hard not to. Marie "More Curves Than a Racetrack" Mjolnir, as Spirit often dubbed her, would be hard not to notice. Her ass was, according to Spirit, "mesmerizing".

He can safely say, from his newfound position, that Spirit might just be on to something.

"Stein? Are you okay? Did you hit your head or something?" Marie asked, slight concern coloring her voice. He must have been silent for a tad too long, and he swallowed hard.

"Hm? Oh. No."

"…then, my pen?" she asked again.

This time, when she curled her spine, arching, trying to reach farther, he was certain she was doing it on purpose.

Death help him.

"Yeah…Yes. Yes. Of course."

Those couches were definitely a good idea.


	22. Danger! High Voltage

Marie didn't know what was more ridiculous: finding Stein awake at any hour that wasn't after noon, or the fact that he had heard her walk into the living room and slowly turned, mimicking a move she swore they'd seen in Austin Powers just a few days prior.

Actually, scratch that. The most ridiculous part of it was that he was on his wheelie chair with his dick out.

"Marie," he greeted, and she almost didn't catch his shit-eating grin because her gaze was focused decidedly lower. "Good morning. Would you like a seat in the electric chair?"

It was one of those mornings. Marie forced herself to look up, bringing her hand up to pinch the bridge of her nose, trying not to laugh. Truthfully, she was somewhat impressed. She was deciding if that horrible joke was enough to quell her suddenly spiked libido.

It wasn't.

"What am i going to do with you?" she sighed, trying to hold her laughter down though her lips tipped up at the corners, and she playfully covered her eye as though the sight of him was something indecent. As though she hadn't seen him naked nearly every day.

Hell, she couldn't even say the sight of him naked on his chair was uncommon. That chair had seen some good times.

Stein's grin widened, reading her false exasperation for exactly what it was, leaning back. "I don't know what you're going to do with me, Marie.Currently, it's up to you."

She bit at the inside of her cheek, suppressing her laughter with everything she had, spreading her fingers against her face and cracking her eye open. "You're absolutely awful," she informed, looking him up and down as he waggled his brows at her. "Besides, I'm shocked. You? Giving someone else the control?"

Stein, catching on, scootched forward in his chair, slightly. "Aren't you ecstatic at the opportunity?"

Marie finally cracked, her giggle bubbling out of her as she looked at Stein fully, letting her arm drop to her side. "That one was terrible!"

"Would you call it…revolting, Marie?" Stein asked, his grin widening as he watched Marie's soul shimmer happily.

Hey. They'd done weirder things for foreplay. All things considered, this was relatively mild.

"Oh, goodness, stop," she said, but it was rather difficult to follow her command when she was chortling. Stein quirked a brow, all too proud of himself.

"Watt? Do you want me to put Nuts and Volts away?" he asked, gesturing to the obvious, and Marie managed to school her features long enough to look him dead in the eye.

"That was so bad, it…hertz," she joked.

She could see, in real time, how the adoration bloomed over his face. The heart eyes he was currently sporting made her blush. If anyone had ever told her that Franken Stein of all people would be smitten by her, she'd have laughed in their face.

But it was hard to deny as Stein brought his hand behind him, pushing his chair so that he wheeled himself over to her. Sitting, he was just about eye level with her, and the open affection on his face was clear as day. He spread his legs so that she could settle between them, probably not intending on upsetting her balance, though that was exactly what happened. The seat of the chair smacked against her knees and she made a small, surprised noise as he came in close to her and one of her hands came to his shoulders and the other splaying over his chest as she tipped forward, catching herself against him and almost landing against something a tad sensitive at the moment. She blinked at him with her eye wide, falling fully into his lap with a gasp.

His hand came to the curve of her waist, trailing down slowly until his palm was against her hip and he could press her closer to him. She looked at him, almost bewildered. He usually wasn't one for such spontaneous acts. Stein was almost always calculated. Though he'd certainly let loose more and more as they spent ample time together.

Stein, as usual presuming what she was thinking, locked eyes with her, his thumb finding its way beneath the hem of her shirt to rub soft circles against her skin as they gravitated toward each other. His smile had softened, warming her all over. "I was enlightened by that comment."

"Yeah?" Marie asked, her voice sounding just the tiniest bit more breathless as he roved his entire hand up her shirt, stroking her spine and making her arch. She shifted, finding a more comfortable place to settle on his lap so she could grind against him. She looked down as he inhaled sharply, inspiring another slow roll of her hips as she tilted her head and dipped her face closer to his, her voice dropping. "It certainly seemed like you were amped up by it."

"Marie…can't you feel the sparks between us?" he breathed as she focused her gaze on his mouth, the hand that had previously been on his shoulder moving to cup the back of his neck, her fingers tangling in her hair as she whispered.

"Depends…put your port plug in my socket and we'll see."


End file.
